For Love of His Nation
by LoneGunGirl88
Summary: The life of Frederick II through the eyes of the Nation he loved. Chapter 4: ""Russia," Gilbert ground out, eyes narrowing. Ivan's smile stretched wider."It seems that I shall be imposing on your hospitality for a time, da?""
1. The Child I

1/24/11

**AN:** I'll try to keep this brief, my more extensive notes will be at the bottom of the chapter for those interested. So: Happy Birthday Old Fritz! In honor of his birthday, I begin this fic. I hope you all enjoy.

For Love of His Nation

Part I: The Child

Chapter 1

"_So you must carry this light into the darkness,_

_You shall be a star unto the night._

_You will find hope alive among the hopeless,_

_That is your purpose to this life."_

-The Cruxshadows, "Sophia"

_January 24__th__, 1712_

Marie cupped her hands, breathing warm air across her chilled fingers. She rubbed her palms together, trying to coax feeling back into numbed skin.

"It is chilly today, isn't it?"

"Oh, Milady!" Marie exclaimed, turning to face the crown princess and giving a hasty curtsy. "Please excuse me, I'm sorry for my tardiness."

Crown Princess Sophia Dorothea waved a negligent hand as she settled herself more comfortably on her couch. "Go warm your hands by the fire," she instructed. "You won't keep up your chores with frozen fingers."

"Thank you, Milady," said Marie, gratefully obeying the injunction. "It will be lunchtime soon," Marie commented after a few moments of silence. "Will you require assistance to the dining hall, or shall I have your meal brought up to you?"

Princess Sophia looked at her Chambermaid for a moment with confusion clear in her features. Then she smiled, draping her arm loosely across her swollen stomach.

"Neither, Marie. But if your hands are sufficiently warmed I would request that you fetch me the physician."

"Milady, are you feeling ill?" Marie asked, alarmed. She darted from the hearth to her mistress's side as the Crown Princess laughed.

"No, not ill," Sophia said. Then she winced, wrapping her free arm around her stomach as well. "One would think, having been through this three times, the pain would not be much of a surprise," she remarked. "Do be a good girl, Marie, and fetch that physician for me?"

Comprehension dawned across the Chambermaid's face and she grinned. "At once, Milady! I shall bring him straight here!"

"And while you're at it," Sophia shouted at Marie's fast retreating back. "Send someone to tell that wretched husband of mine that his child is on the way!"

* * *

Gilbert Beilschmidt was resisting the urge to plug his ears up with his fingers. It would be a childish move to make for one thing, completely not awesome, and it probably wouldn't help much. The tension thickening the air between his Crown Prince and King would be pressing down on his shoulders whether or not he could hear their conversation. Instead he turned his attention to the lunch being spread out in front of them. It consisted of some kind of pasta covered in a cheese sauce. It tasted good. He would probably enjoy it if the stress in the air wasn't tying his stomach in knots. Gilbert couldn't remember the last time he had honestly enjoyed eating a meal with his current and soon-to-be ruler in the same room.

Crown Prince Friedrich William frowned as he studied his food. "All imported. An expensive meal this is."

Gilbert somehow, through sheer force of will, resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"When you rule my boy, you may dine on soldier's fare if that is your desire," King Friedrich retorted. "But you will allow an old man his indulgences. It is quite a good meal, don't you think, Prussia?"

Gilbert forced himself to swallow and nodded. "The cheese is imported from France, unless I am mistaken."

"Yes," the old king agreed with an indulgent smile. "And the pasta is from Italy. Quite a remarkable combination if I do say so."1

The Crown Prince frowned, but said nothing. It looked like he was thinking of something polite but argumentative to say. It was with relief that Gilbert noticed the man who stepped quietly into the room.

"Yes, Von Besser?" he called the court Master of Ceremonies over, neatly cutting off the Crown Prince before he could speak. The man approached, bowing low as he reached the table.

"I came to inform his majesty and his highness that the Crown Princess has gone into labor." He straightened then, and there was a smile hovering on his lips. "The Lady Sophia's physician says that the child may well be born within the hour!"

"Have my chair brought round at once!" the King demanded, excitement lighting his features. "We shall attend the princess immediately."

"At once, my King." Von Besser bowed, then strode quickly from the room to summon a few servants.

"Really, father," Friedrich William said, his tone disapproving. "There is no need to rush off so fast, it is undignified. Let us at least finish our meal. The child has not even been born yet."

"I wish to be there for my grandchild's first moments," the king retorted, disapproval clear in his voice. His son flushed, sitting up even straighter than he had been already as four servants scurried into the room with the king's carry chair. "In this situation, dignity can well be sacrificed for speed. Now come along, the both of you. There is no time to waste."

The king settled in his chair and was carried from the room. His Nation stood to walk beside him. With a grudging sigh the Crown Prince rose and trailed behind.

* * *

They were not allowed inside Lady Sophia's room which, though it frustrated the king, came as no surprise to the three men. They had been through this before. Friedrich William suggested moving on to a more comfortable room. The king scoffed at the suggestion and had himself parked quite firmly in the hallway beside Lady Sophia's doors. Scowling slightly his son stood across from him at military parade rest. Gilbert leaned against the wall, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

"It will be a boy," the king said decidedly after a while of silence.

"There is no certainty." the prince objected.

"No, the child will be a boy. A strong boy," the king asserted.

His son sighed. "The last two did not survive long. I will waste no hopes on this one until this strength you predict is proven."

The king frowned at his son, but did not argue. Instead he addressed his Nation.

"The child will be your king, Prussia. I can feel it. He will be great, he will be everything those before him couldn't be."

Friedrich William stiffened at the comment, features pulled tight. Gilbert almost didn't notice, attention focused almost solely on his ruler and the quiet confidence in his tone.

"How can you be so sure?" he asked, and couldn't quite manage to quell the spark that had flared to life in his chest.

"Call it an old man's intuition." The aged king turned a smile on his nation. "I can sense it. Everything we tried to be, he _will_ be. You wait and see." For a single spellbound moment Gilbert felt himself caught up in the old man's confidence, his eyes locked with his king's. He drew in a deep breath, and the doors swung open.

The Crown Princess's chambermaid scurried out, eyes shining, and brought herself up short at the sight of the three men standing just outside the door.

"Oh, my lords, pardon me!" she exclaimed as she sank into a hasty bow. "I was just on my way to find you!"

"May we see Sophie now?" the king asked, excitement and affection warring in his tone.

Marie raised her head and tentatively offered her king a smile. "She is resting now, but she asked me to bring you to her before she falls asleep."

"The child?" asked the Crown Prince, sounding interested in spite of himself.

"A boy, my lord!" Marie exclaimed. "As hearty a child as can be. Hasn't stopped moving for a single moment."

The king's smile was exultant, triumphant. His eye's met his Nation's for a brief second, as if to say _See? I told you so_. Then he stood from his chair and, completely unaided, walked through the doors. After a moment, Gilbert scrambled to follow, taking the old man's arm. Friedrich William stepped up on his father's left and helped support the aged king into the bedroom. Marie, who had scuttled in ahead of them, placed a chair by the Crown Princess's bedside, which the two men helped their king into. Sophia, propped up on a small pile of stacked pillows, smiled, her eyes half lidded with exhaustion. In her arms she cradled a small, wrapped, and wriggling bundle.

"That is the child, I take it?" her husband asked, stepping up to the bedside. Sophia's smile dimmed as she turned her gaze to her husband.

"Yes. This is our son," she replied, putting a careful emphasis on the last word. She tilted her arms and a tiny, wrinkled face was revealed to the room. The small lips scrunched and the baby gave a small whine of protest at the movement. Sophia bent her head to plant a kiss among the mop of blond locks that already adorned the baby's head.

Gilbert crossed his arms, head tilted as he studied the baby. He certainly seemed energetic enough, but whatever it was that the king had predicted he couldn't find. He saw a healthy baby, but that was all he could see.

"He looks healthy enough," Friedrich William noted guardedly. His father scoffed.

"Really, boy. Hold your son."

Arms stiff and awkward, the Crown Prince slowly picked the baby up from his mother's protective arms. Almost immediately the tiny face scrunched up and turned beat red as the infant began to wail.

This time, Prussia really did clap his hands over his ears, fighting back a smirk at the indignant expression on his prince's face. _'Kid's got taste_,' he thought approvingly. Then he winced as a rather piercing wail struck right through his hands to make his ears ring in pain. _'And lungs. Kid's got good freaking lungs.' _

The Crown Prince surrendered the baby as soon as his father held up his arms expectantly. The king's hold was much more natural, cradling the boy in the crook of one arm and whispering soothingly while two fingers from his free hand trailed delicate patterns across his tiny head. The child continued to cry, though the volume toned down and Prussia cautiously pulled his hands away from his ears. A head of curly, dark-blond hair suddenly popped up by his elbow and he felt his heart leap in his chest.

"Wilhelmina!" he exclaimed.

The little princess turned a face still pudgy with baby fat up to look at him, standing up on her tiptoes. She pointed at her grandfather.

"Von Besser says I have a brother," she said bluntly. Prussia turned to glare at the man mentioned as he entered his peripheral vision. The man shrugged.

"Mr. Prussia," Wilhelmina called Gilbert's attention back to her, her arms stretched up in a clear demand. "I can't see. Pick me up?"

With a sigh born half of exasperation, half helpless affection, Gilbert swung the little girl up into his arms so she could look down at her baby brother. She tilted her head, wonder on her features.

"He's _tiny_," she said quietly. "He's even littler than _me_."

"He was just born, dear," her mother said from the bed, sounding as though she were on the verge of sleep.

"I wanna' hold him," Wilhelmina said, turning a pleading expression on her mother. Gilbert was just glad it wasn't turned on _him_. He never could resist the little girl in puppy eyed pleading mode.

"Later," Sophia said firmly. "You can hold him later, Mina. Mother is really tired right now. I need to sleep."

"Later," Wilhelmina said, after a moment of consideration. "Remember you _promised_." She allowed Gilbert to put her back on the ground and only gave him half a glare when he ruffled her hair before following Marie out of the room, probably to go play somewhere.

"You'll forgive me, gentlemen," Sophia murmured, settling herself more comfortably among her pillows. "I cannot seem to keep my eyes open."

"It is quite alright, Sophie. You rest yourself," the king murmured. Gilbert didn't think she'd stayed awake long enough to even hear that.

"The boy will need a name," the king said after a moment, still gazing adoringly at the crying bundle in his arms.

Friedrich William blinked, as if he'd been startled out of some inner thoughts. "I had not given any thought to it," he admitted with a shrug. "Perhaps you would care to name him, father," he added respectfully.

"Hmmm." The king pursed his lips in contemplation.

"My lord." Von Besser took a step nearer to the bed. "If I might make a suggestion?"

The king nodded.

"Well, it occurred to me that this is the Crown Prince's third son. And his majesty was also the third son of his own father." He let the sentence dangle in the open air, head bowed respectfully but his eyes sparkled with quiet amusement and a small smile played across his lips. When the contemplative silence had stretched on for a few seconds he continued. "In light of this coincidence, if it is such, I thought it might be appropriate if his majesty were to name the child after himself."

The king's eyebrows knitted in thought for a moment before he smiled, wide and exultant. "Friedrich. Yes, I think that suits you well," he said to the still crying bundle. Then he turned to face Gilbert. "Meet your future king, Prussia," he said and deposited the infant into the startled Gilbert's arms.

The Nation clutched the crying infant close, shifting his hold into an imitation of the one his king had used, cradling the baby in one arm, the other wrapped around as an extra support. Quite suddenly, the infant's sobs quieted and he shifted, curling into Gilbert's chest and waving his arms about until they connected with Gilbert's jacket, his tiny fingers gripped at it feebly. Wide eyes locked on the baby's face, Gilbert didn't see his king's triumphant grin.

"The boy is healthy. I'm going to let my wife rest now," Friedrich William said as he turned on his heel. "I shall have the servants come in to assist you back to the dining room, father," he added, respectfully ducking his head before walking swiftly from the room.

"I would prefer my own chambers," the king ruefully informed the servants who rushed in, in his son's wake. "Excitement seems to exhaust me in my old age."

Gilbert opened his mouth to respond but froze before he could utter a single syllable. The infant had opened his eyes, eyes a brilliant and clear, crystal blue, and looked up at him. Gilbert remembered hearing something somewhere about how newborns were not supposed to be able to see, but bright blue met crimson unblinking, as if the child could see right through him. The baby cooed softly, happily, and seemed to almost smile.

"Prussia."

Startled out of his daze, Gilbert snapped his head up to look at his king. The old man was seated back in his carry chair, the servants ready to carry him out. "I seem to remember our lunch being interrupted. You should get something to eat."

"I," Gilbert started, then trailed off as the infant in his arms sighed contentedly, pressing his face into Gilbert's jacket and falling asleep. Instinctively, Gilbert tightened his hold protectively around the infant. "I'd prefer to stay here, Sir, if it's all the same to you. Besides," he added under his king's growing, knowing smile. "He's asleep now. If I dislodge him he'll just wake up wailing, and Sophia just fell to sleep." Gilbert quickly turned his head to make sure the Crown Princess really _had_ fallen asleep.

"As you wish, Prussia," the king said, nodding to his Nation and not bothering to hide his wide smile. Gilbert grumbled as the king was carried out. He walked closer to the fire, sinking carefully into the winged armchair placed there. He gazed down at the sleeping bundle in his arms.

'_The child will be a boy,'_ his king had said. _'A strong boy.'_ Well, there were no doubts there. The lad was certainly feisty enough that his strength wasn't in question. Gilbert quirked a rueful grin, then felt his brow tighten as he recalled his king's later words. _'The child will be your king, Prussia. I can feel it. He will be great, be everything those before him couldn't be.'_ Gilbert couldn't pretend to predict the future, and his king certainly had no mystical powers. And yet, something in him had stirred when the infant's eyes met his. Something confidant and unwavering. Something that said his king was right.

"Well, mostly right," Gilbert corrected out loud, a wild grin splashed across his face. "Friedrich my boy," he addressed the peacefully slumbering infant, crimson eyes glowing with excitement. "You are going to be a hell of a lot more than great. You are going to be _awesome_."

* * *

**Ending Notes:**

1: Macaroni and Cheese used to be a meal that only the upper class could afford. As mentioned the pasta had to be imported from Italy, where it was hand made, and the cheese had to be imported from France. We can thank my college roommate and Beta Reader for that little bit of interesting, but potentially useless, information.

2: I'm getting the majority of my historical information for this story from "_Frederick the Great_" by Giles MacDonogh. According to the book Friedrich II was born with black hair, though it did eventually turn blond. However, most babies are born with blonde hair and blue eyes and I felt it was a small enough detail to overlook.

**AN:** I am doing a lot of research to try and make this story as accurate as I possibly can. That being said, I am not a historian, for me historical research has become something of a hobby. If there are historians, or potential historians, reading this story please feel free to tell me of any inaccuracies that you find. They may be genuine mistakes, which I will correct, or they may be on purpose, in which case I will try to address them in the Ending Notes of each chapter. For anyone super nit picky about details and dates I'd just like to say that while I am doing research I am also writing a _story_, so there will quite likely be times that I am relaying real events out of order because story wise they flow better that way, or overlooking small details altogether. Or hell, adding scenes. I'm writing the story to fit the Hetalia universe after all. Ultimately, I'm writing this to have fun. Constructive criticism I welcome with open arms. Flames will be ignored.

I started working on this fic sometime last year at the request of my then college roommate, now penpal, Skype buddy, and this story's Beta Reader. It's the first foray I have ever made into writing from research and I was quite surprised to find that I had a field day with it. I'm trying to keep several chapters ahead of myself. Chapter 5 was betaed earlier this evening, actually. The next update should occur in roughly two weeks or so, and hopefully all following updates will progress along that schedule. So long as Beta can keep beating me into churning out chapters on a decent time frame...

So seeing as this is the only the first chapter, I'll end my notes here. Starting from next chapter I'll use this space at the end to address questions and comments, and leave Reviewer Responses. So I hope you all enjoy, and I'll see you in two weeks! Don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think.


	2. The Child II

03/01/11

**AN:** So I fudged up big time. I uploaded this chapter almost two weeks ago, but I didn't finish the reviewer responses that night and figured I'd just come back to them the next day…. Yeah, didn't happen. I completely forgot about it. Then I went to New York to visit my family and a friend of mine asked about the chapter…. This was my reaction: O.O… So I'm very, very sorry. I'll have chapter three out within a week to make up for it?

For Love of His Nation

Part I: The Child

Chapter 2

"_I watch the heavens but I find no calling,_

_Something I can do to change what's coming._

_Stay close to me while the sky is falling_

_Don't wanna be left alone, don't wanna be alone."_

-Sarah McLaughlan, "World on Fire"

_February 26th__, 1713_

The morning had dawned bright and clear with only the faintest wisps of clouds sailing lazily across the sky. Birdsong drifted hopefully from the trees at the first hints of spring carried on the breeze. A few brave flowers had begun to poke buds above the dirt. In the palace, however, the dawning signs of spring went unnoticed. An audible hush had fallen over the palace occupants who all but tiptoed through their daily activities, speaking only when they had to and then barely above a whisper.

Gilbert paced restlessly through the halls, being slowly driven insane by the silence. Every so often he would stop and stand as still as a statue, staring intently at nothing for varying ranges of time before striding into movement again with no warning. He had startled several servants already and outright frightened a few others who had spread the word around that it would be in everyone's best interest to avoid the agitated Nation. A few hardier souls would frown reprovingly and chastise the others. _What do you expect?_ they would ask. _He is a close friend of his king, who is on his deathbed. Just go about your duties and give him his space_.1

If Gilbert saw or heard any of this he gave no sign, not responding to anything even when one servant tentatively asked him if he would be wanting lunch. It wasn't until the late afternoon that anyone was able to prompt a response from him. He was standing in one of the upper corridors, staring unseeingly out a window when von Besser stepped up beside him, hands loosely clasped behind his back.

"It feels almost like Spring is already here," he said quietly. Red eyes flicked for a brief second in his direction. "It's such a shame," he continued. "Things are going to be very different tomorrow."

Gilbert's hands tightened into fists for a moment before he forced them to relax again.

"It won't be a better difference," he bit out.

Von Besser smiled wryly. "I harbor no hopes that you are wrong. Our Crown Prince is already talking of reforms and changes he plans to implement immediately. I would lay money that a month from now this nation will no longer be recognizable." At this Gilbert shot the man a wry smile and snorted. Besser inclined his head.

"So did you come to find me for any specific reason, or was it just for that soul lifting prediction?" Gilbert asked after a few moments of silence.

"He is asking for you," von Besser said.

Gilbert sighed, closing his eyes. "Right," he muttered.

* * *

Entering the King's apartments Gilbert was greeted with the ear-shattering wails of an unhappy child. Princess Sophia was walking slowly back and forth, crooning softly to the crying baby she cradled against her shoulder. The exhaustion in her eyes melted into sheer relief as soon as she caught sight of Gilbert.

"Here, take him," she exclaimed. "You're the only one who's ever been able to calm him down." She thrust the baby at Gilbert who automatically brought his arms up to hold him. It was hardly the first time Friedrich, or Fritz as Gilbert had taken to calling him, had been pushed in his direction. He fitted the child against his shoulder and sure enough a moment later the cries tapered off into contented gurgling.

Sophia rubbed her neck just behind her ears in relief. "Oh, that's much better," she exclaimed. "He's been carrying on for almost an hour."

"What started it?" Gilbert asked. A small hand grasped at his nose and he turned his head, eyebrows raised as he stared down into happy blue eyes. He felt a smile tug helplessly at the corners of his mouth.

"I took him to see his grandfather," Sophia said, watching her child's antics with quiet amusement. "He must have been frightened by the atmosphere because he just started to wail and wouldn't stop."

"Well, I can certainly understand the sentiment," Gilbert said, gently ruffling the child's hair. "Your husband's with his father?" he asked, nodding towards the closed bedroom door.

Sophia sighed. "Yes, he is." She was silent a moment, before she locked eyes with Gilbert across the room. "My husband is a hard man, Prussia, and I'm not going to pretend that I always agree with him, or even understand him. Sometimes, I have to admit that I don't even like him. But he does, truly want to do what he believes to be best for his country. He will not always be right." She smiled . "He may not ever be right. I know it will be a rare occasion indeed that you or I agree with him. But, he will try his best."

"You'll forgive me if I don't hold out much hope for him," Gilbert said. Sophia smiled.

"I never said I did either. He will make the country strong, I'm sure of that. But he certainly has an unprecedented skill to suck the life and soul out of whatever falls under him."

Instinctively Gilbert's arms tightened protectively around the child he held. Fritz whined a complaint into his shoulder.

The bedroom doors opened.

_Well, speak of the devil and he shall appear_, Gilbert thought as Frederick William walked into the room. The Crown Prince raised an eyebrow when he saw Gilbert.

"Ah, Prussia. At last. Father has been asking for you."

"I was waiting on you," Gilbert answered. "I wasn't going to impose while you said farewell to your father."

"Yes, well." The Crown Prince frowned. "Go see him. I'll take the child." He strode forward, arms held out expectantly.

Fritz wrapped tiny fingers around Gilbert's lapel and hid his face against the Nation's neck. Gilbert tightened his arms around the boy and opened his mouth to protest. To his surprise, Sophia beat him too it.

"Oh, no you don't!" she exclaimed, tugging her husband's arms down. "He'll just start screaming again and my ears are still ringing from his last bout!" When Frederick William looked like he was still going to demand his son be handed over Sophia added, "Besides, your father wanted to see him again for a little while, and you know the boy never cries when Prussia is holding him."

"Very well," the Crown Prince finally allowed. "If Prussia wants to keep hold of the child he can put him to bed as well. Come along, my dear." He strode from the room.

Sophia sighed, crossing her arms and shaking her head. She smiled at Gilbert before following her husband from the room. As she left, Gilbert released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and reassuringly ruffled Fritz's hair as the child pulled his face away from the Nation's neck and looked up inquisitively as if to ask _'Are they gone yet?'_

"They're gone," Gilbert assured, then sighed. "Well, nothing for it. Come on kid, let's go see your grandfather."

The drapes were all pulled back, letting the waning rays of the sun dance through the room and, though the fire was lit, several of the windows were cracked to allow fresh spring-tinted air to circulate. But in spite of the obvious efforts to make the room cheery the atmosphere was heavy, seeming to weigh down on Gilbert's shoulders. His king was in bed, half sitting and half lying against the small pile of pillows that supported him.

"Hey, Old Man," Gilbert greeted quietly.

The King opened his eyes, one eyebrow raised and a small smile hovering on his lips.

"Prussia," he drawled in response. Then he noticed his grandson nestled on Gilbert's lap and his face lit up.

"Ah, Frederick," he exclaimed. "Have you exhausted your tears at last?"

Fritz wiggled around to burrow into Gilbert's jacket and the Nation laid a soothing hand across his back. The King chuckled, reaching up with a weak hand to pat the boy's shoulder before letting it drop back down on the bed.

"You keep pushing yourself, Old Man, you're gonna' die while you're still young," Gilbert chastised, rearranging his king's arm to a more comfortable position.

"Don't look now, Prussia," said the King cheerfully. "I'm already old."

"You stupid humans," Gilbert muttered, swallowing against his suddenly tightening throat. "You age too goddamn fast."

"Well, unfortunately, there is not a lot we can do about it," the King said with a sigh. "I happen to think I've lived a good long life." He smiled. "For a stupid human, at least."

Gilbert snorted, managing to pull himself back together again.

"You don't get along well with my son," the King commented after a moment.

"Sir, _no one_ gets along well with your son except maybe Sophia. No offence," Prussia added as an afterthought. "Honestly, I'm not looking forward to his reign."

"I didn't think you would be," the King said. "But you'll bear through." He smiled at his grandson, staring at him inquisitively from within the safety of Gilbert's arms. "You have something to look forward to, after all."

"Yeah," Gilbert agreed, smile tender as he glanced down at the child on his lap again. "Yeah, I do."

After a moment more of silence the King continued. "My son will try his best."

"Sophia said the same thing," Prussia said. "And he's a strong leader, I'll grant him that, but he's got a stick rammed so far up his ass I think even the palace surgeons have lost all hope of removing it. He can be a self-righteous, uptight prick when he wants to." _Which is all the freaking time_, Gilbert refrained from adding.

"He can be," the King admitted with a chuckle. "And he often is. In spite of his faults, I do love my son. And God knows I have faults of my own. And he does have his better qualities, even if he tries his hardest to hide them. Sophia is one of them. He loves her, and every now and then he even tries to show it. He does love his country, and he will work to make it strong."

"Sophia said that too," Gilbert said. "She also said that he has a talent for sucking the life and soul out of everything he touches."

The king sighed. "Yes, there is that. He is strong, but his character is weak. And he is very demanding. He will try to mold his children to be just like he is." He smiled again when Gilbert, who didn't even seem to realize that he was doing it, tucked Fritz close against his chest as if to shield the boy from his father's expectations. Fritz glared up from within his Nation's hold like he was saying _'As if I'd let that happen. Don't you know me by now?'_

"I would say don't let him," the King said, eyes on his grandson. "But somehow I do not think that Friedrich will be needing much help resisting the mold his father has in mind for him."

Both men watched for a few minutes while Fritz amused himself playing with Gilbert's cravat. Surrendering to his persistent tugging it eventually came undone and fell into the delighted boy's lap. He laughed, holding it up to Gilbert, who grinned.

"It's a useless noose, kid. Have fun with it."

"You must forgive Frederick, Prussia" the King said suddenly.

"Eh?" Gilbert glanced up, startled. "Fritz? But I'm not even-"

"My son," the King amended. "For everything he's done, for all the things he will do to make this an unhappy nation to live in. And even for, perhaps especially for, the things he will do to his son. They are going to be very different people and he will not understand that."

"No," Gilbert agreed. "I don't think he will. He's going to try to bend the boy to fit his image and when he doesn't bend he'll break him."

"Now, don't give my grandson so little credit," the King chastised. "He already knows he has you to turn to, doesn't he? From the day he was born, he has loved you." Both King and Nation looked down at the child again, who had in the span of time they'd been talking fallen asleep in Gilbert's lap, clutching his undone cravat in one small hand. "One day, you will be turning to him," the King continued. "Just you wait and see."

Looking from the thirteen-month-old asleep on his lap to the old man on his deathbed, Gilbert felt his chest constrict. "It's not that long a time to wait, for someone like me. Not long at all. Watching you humans is like watching a taper burn; close your eyes and they've already burned out."

"Ah, but we burn all the more brightly for it. Keep watch on Frederick, Prussia. Gilbert. You'll see that he outshines us all." The King sighed heavily, sinking back against his pillows. "I'm afraid that's all I'm up for today. You'll have to show yourself out, Prussia. I'm exhausted."

Gilbert swallowed once and stood, the sleeping Fritz cradled in his arms. "I'll do that then. Sleep well, Sir."

"I believe I shall, Prussia," the King said with one last, fond smile, before his eyes slid shut and his breaths evened out. Gilbert walked from the room.

An hour later, when the announcement of King Frederick's death swept through the palace, Gilbert was seated beside Fritz's cradle watching his Crown Prince sleep, blissfully unaware of the uproar outside of his room.

* * *

The following afternoon after official matters had been tended to and funeral arrangements made, the new King of Prussia gathered together his father's numerous servants and courtiers to make a very brief announcement.

"Gentlemen, our good master is dead," he informed them, standing ramrod straight and staring down at them like they were the lowliest pieces of dirt on the bottom of his boots. "The new king bids you all go to hell."2

As the king left the room, Prussia, his expression sour, advised the confused mass.

"If I were you I'd stay in your homes tomorrow."

The smartest of them would heed his advise, Gilbert figured. He could see in the eyes of some that they fully planned to stay away from the palace after going home to their families in the evening. Others, confused, uncertain, would return for work in the morning to be met with their rude new reality. Gilbert walked out of the room, wondering just how rude this new reality was going to be.

**Ending Notes:**

1: In my Hetalia head cannon the only people who know a Nation's true status are their bosses, possibly their families, and the higher ranking dignitaries. So Von Besser, as Master of Ceremonies, knows that Gilbert is really Prussia, but the servants don't. Or at least, they shouldn't anyway. Servants sometimes overhear things. But on the whole I imagine that a Nation's status is something of a well kept secret.

2: Direct quote. _"Frederick the Great"_ by Giles MacDonogh, pg. 17. (I feel like I'm back in school with all this referencing…)

**Fun Facts:**

1: Frederick I was technically killed by his last wife, a rather psychotic woman that no one is sure why he married considering he couldn't father children by that time. She ran at him one night wearing nothing but her underclothes, shrieking, and he mistook her for an apparition and fainted. His heart was weak and he died a few days after the incident. This bit of info comes from the Nancy Mitford book, if anyone is interested.

2: I would also like to note that, in spite of his detest for pomp and circumstance and his issues with his father, Frederick William gave Frederick I a lavish funeral. He actually spared no expense, which, considering who we're talking about, was an incredibly touching gesture.

**AN:** So it's been just over a month….. Oops? But maybe that's not a bad thing, because I haven't had any time to work on chapter 6 during that time. It's not even outlined yet. So now that my visit home to New York and the scrambling to prepare for that and grab extra shifts at work is over I'll have time to pull my feet back under me and actually_ write_ again. I want to stay a few chapters ahead of what I post so I can keep a semi-steady posting schedule….. I hear ominous laughter in the background…. Just a warning: I'm not known for keeping to schedules very well, but I promise with this story I'm going to try my hardest. I'll try to put out chapter three in a week to make up for the long wait for chapter two. And hey, good news about chapter three; Friedrich is old enough to _talk_! Yay!

**Reviewer Responses:**

General thank you shoutout to everyone who reviewed the first chapter! **be with you**, **BGtea**, **KitakLaw**, **YourDarkMistress**, **karatemaster101**, **Spider Wench**, **ChibiStarr**, **Gaarahottie**, **Darth-Xieda**, and my one anonymous reviewer! You guys rock my socks! Thank you so much for taking the time to review and let me know you're reading. And to everyone who has favorited the story or put it on alert, thank you!

**Be with you**: shut up. You'll get it when I'm done with it! Btw, everyone meet my Beta Reader! She is made of awesome, and she is the reason this story exists in more ways than one. She's the one who first sat me down and forced me to watch Hetalia. Then she's the one who got me obsessed with Prussia. So if you really like this story, thank her.

**BGtea**: What I know about Frederick I, I know from the two books I'm using for research, although I have to say both have a fair amount of information in them. Friedrich I and his son were very different people; Frederick I very much enjoyed a lavish lifestyle and full court. He was a lover of the arts and music, and liked elaborate or foreign foods. Frederick William was pretty much his father's polar opposite; he cut all funding for the arts after he became ruler, his 'court' was miniscule and limited to the people he absolutely had to have around, he and his family dined on simple soldier's fare, and he devoted almost his entire rule to funding, building, and strengthening Prussia's military force.

The dynamics between Frederick William and his father are actually fascinating. Unfortunately, without deviating from the story I wasn't able to delve into their relationship too much. It would be awesome if someone could write that story, I'd read it in a heartbeat. Between the two of them they probably gave poor Gilbert a monumental headache.

**KitakLaw**: thank you. And let me tell you I love doing this research (which High School!Me would be horrified at) but there are times I want to pitch my book across the room when I realize just _how much_ information I need to slog through, and just how much of it probably won't ever even make it into the story. I make a crap-ton of notes and then have to figure out how to reorganize them to make them flow plot-wise. So just to warn you there will be events out of order at some point, or missing people (Frederick William had a few advisors I may just condense into one person to make all our lives more simple.) But typically I'll keep you informed of things like that in the Ending Notes. So if anything is confusing let me know so I can go back and clarify. That goes for everyone, actually. If you catch any inaccuracies tell me and I'll either fix it, or let you know why I did it like that.

**Karatemaster101**: I went back and combed through both books I'm using and even dug through Frederick II's wikipedia page and do you know? I can't find a physical description of him _at all_, other than the one that says he was born with black hair. I have no idea where I found it to begin with, even. I think I'm going to blame the fanart. X_X So for the sake of this story my Frederick is going to remain blond haired and blue eyed for now. If I get a large enough consensus I may change his eye color to grey, though. If many of you feel that it is an important enough detail I'll happily change it.

**Spider Wench**: I did not know that the Hohen Zollerns were known for having grey eyes, but that is interesting. And in one of the books I'm using, "Frederick The Great" by Nancy Mitford, there are a lot of full color pictures. One is of Fritz and Wilhelmine as small children, and when I took a closer look at it I noticed that they both very definitely have grey eyes. Their hair, however, is powdered, as it is in all of the color pictures that they're not wearing _wigs_ so I still have no idea what color their hair really is. Before I post chapter three I'll have made my decision about whether or not to change their eye colors in the story; from referring to these portraits I just may. I'm blaming the fanart! I even based the appearance of the Fritz plushie I made on the fanart, so the plushie has blue eyes, damnit!

**Darth-Xieda**: Which book are you reading? The two I'm using are both called "Frederick the Great," one is by Giles MacDonogh and the other by Nancy Mitford. My favorite is the one by Giles MacDonogh, which I'd recommend to anyone who wants to read about Fritz. It reads almost like a story, at least in my opinion, whereas the Nancy Mitford, while interesting, can sound sometimes more like a listing of facts which can get rather dull. Though she does have information that the other book doesn't and vice versa, so I'm glad I have them both. Also, the Nancy Mitford one has _a lot _of pictures, both of people and locations, so it makes visualizing scenes and characters a bit easier.

And oh boy will there be conflict. Lots and lots of conflict.


	3. The Child III

**AN:** And so much for lots of free time, work is eating up my life. I just worked two fourteen hour days in a row, both of my jobs both days. X_X Getting this up before I have to run off to work _again_.

For Love of His Nation

Part I: The Child

Chapter 3

_"Where the silent voices whisper_  
_Find the course that is your own,_  
_And however great the obstacle_  
_You will never be alone._  
_For I have watched the path of angels_  
_And I have heard the heavens roar,_  
_There is strife within the tempest_  
_But calm in the eye of the storm." _  
-The Cruxshadows, "Eye of the Storm"

_Summer, 1717_

Laughter echoed through the halls of the palace, a resounding herald for anyone nearby to press themselves firmly against an available wall as, on the heels of the noise, too excited children raced into view. In the lead was a girl, eight years old, one slender, delicate hand holding her skirts clear of her flying feet. Close behind her followed a boy, shorter than the girl though not by much, wearing clothes that had not that long ago looked neat. He had his hands stretched out in front of him and he was shouting after the girl.

"Give it back, Wilhelmina! Give my drum back to me!"

In response, his sister waved the stolen toy above her head with her free hand. "Not a chance!" she hollered over her shoulder. "You wouldn't help me make my flower crowns, Fritz, so why would I let you play with your silly drum!"

"I want to practice!" her brother shouted. "Give it back!" Seeking hands made a wild grab for the back of his sister's flying skirts and almost managed to grab a hold, but with a second's burst of speed Wilhelmina just managed to avoid her brother's grasp. Shrieking with laughter again, she darted around a corner and down another hall. The chase continued for several more minutes, Fritz no more than a hands-breadth behind his sister the entire time. Finally, Wilhelmina made as if to run down the main staircase and at the last second changed her mind and made a sharp turn. Not expecting her quick movement, Fritz tried to change his direction as well but his feet tangled and he pitched forward.

"Friedrich!" he heard Wilhelmina cry in alarm as the stairs rushed up to meet him. He was jerked roughly to a halt just before his nose made an unpleasant meeting with the marble and held suspended for a second before whoever had caught a quick hold of his collar yanked him rather ungraciously back up onto his feet.

"You two need to learn to exercise caution," Prussia chided. "How well do you think the explanation of how the Crown Prince took a header down the stairs would go with your father?"

Fritz flushed as he met Gilbert's eyes. The albino quirked a grin, ruffling the boy's hair. Fritz broke his Nation's gaze only when he felt his sister's inquisitive touch on his arm. When he turned to face her, her expression was unusually meek and she held out his small drum with both hands.

"I didn't want you to get hurt," she said. "I thought we were having fun."

"_You_ were having fun," Fritz grumbled as he took his drum back. Then, when his sister's expression fell further, he grinned. "I'm not hurt, Wilhelmina, so do cheer up. Gilbert is always there to catch me." He turned a brilliant smile on the Nation.

"You two might want to start minding after yourselves," Gilbert said, flushing slightly under the adoring gaze of both children. "I can't _always_ be there to catch you."

"Well, when that is the case I suppose the two of us will just have to pick each other up then," Wilhelmina said cheerfully, before pulling insistently on her brother's sleeve. "Let's go play in Mother's rooms. We can play hide and seek!"

"Actually, I was sent to find you, Fritz," Gilbert intercepted the boy's retreat with a hand to his shoulder. "Your father has organized a march on the parade ground. He wants you to meet him down there."

The boy's bright blue eyes lit up. He handed his hard-gained drum back to his sister.

"Bring this to Mother," he instructed the clearly disappointed girl. "Don't fret. I shall put on a show for the two of you later!"

Wilhelmina sighed, but she took the drum from her brother and turned to Gilbert. "Do try not to keep my brother all day, please, Prussia. He is the only entertainment there is in this place." She turned on her heel and trounced back down the hallway in the direction of her mother's chambers.

Gilbert turned his head back to the boy tugging furiously on his arm.

"Come _along_, Gilbert. We must be prompt, you know how Father hates tardiness!"

And boy was that a fact. The man would cheerfully swing his cane at anyone he considered to be dawdling. Although he admittedly needed little, or any, reason at all to swing the cane that sometimes seemed to be more of an extension of his arm than a walking aid. The only person ever spared a caning was Sophia, everyone else, Prussia himself included, was fair game. He started walking.

"I didn't know that Father had been planning a parade for today," Fritz said, almost stumbling over his feet in his excited hurry. Gilbert laid a stalling hand on the boy's shoulder to slow him down.

"Well don't look at me, Fritz. He never tells me anything either."

"But you're our Nation," Fritz exclaimed, expression suddenly affronted. "You should be the first to know the things Father plans."

Gilbert snorted. "Don't I wish, Kid."

The two exited the palace through the main doors and began the short walk to the King's Pleasure Gardens. In the days of King Friedrich I the garden had been lush and vibrant, a favorite place of the court ladies and the Crown Princess to walk. Friedrich William had had it very quickly remodeled, turning it into a parade ground where he could watch his soldiers march. The army was, after all, the King's pleasure. Often, when his mood was good, he would arrange several parades a month, and more often than not he had his son sent for so that he could explain military tactics or simply see the boy gaze with wide, enraptured eyes upon the army his father had built up.

As they were approaching the grounds Gilbert suddenly cursed under his breath as he caught a good look of the state of Friedrich's clothes.

"You're a mess!" he exclaimed, jerking the boy to a halt. "I'll never understand how you manage to make such a disaster of yourself all the time," he added as he bent to adjust the Crown Prince's clothes into some semblance of order, his tone, in spite of his words, faintly approving.

Fritz, used to the hasty, last minute rearranging, smiled. "Father insists that I be active," he commented innocently. "How can one be active and remain neat at the same time?"

"The King manages," Gilbert said, finger-combing Fritz's hair back into a neat tail. "But then again there are times that I suspect your father is not quite human."

"Well, what would that make me, then?" Fritz asked, adopting an affronted expression that couldn't hide the merriment in his bright eyes.

"You're just awesome," Gilbert assured him, ruffling Fritz's hair again and undoing the last few minutes work. _Oh well_, he thought to himself as he passed his eyes over the boy. _It's certainly no worse than the rest of him_.

And though his lips tightened with disapproval when he caught sight of them, the king made no comments about his son's appearance. Instead he stepped to the side, allowing room for his Nation and the Crown Prince to stand beside him so that they would have a clear view of the spectacle that he had put together.

"Quite the magnificent sight, isn't it?" the King asked, both hands resting on top of his cane. Back straight and eyes alight with fierce pride, he looked incredibly regal.

"It certainly is," Gilbert agreed, chest tightening with a fierce, possessive pride. People could say what they liked about his king, but the man knew how to train an army. And an army was desperately needed. Prussia had only been a nation for a short span of time, and his lands were scattered about in patches, at the mercy of surrounding countries. Conscious and resentful of the fact that Prussia could be easily toppled if any of said surrounding nations decided to invade, Friedrich William, at the beginning of his reign, had enacted a long term plan to build and strengthen Prussia's armies. Even after so short a time, his plan was paying off. The army was almost double the size it had been five years ago, and harsh discipline and an inflexible training schedule had transformed each recruit into a battle ready soldier.

As Gilbert watched the rigid formations march past in the goosestep1 their drill instructors demanded he couldn't stop the wicked grin that splashed its way across his face. He had no doubts that in just a few more years Friedrich William would have this army ready to take on any power in Europe.

_You'd best keep your eyes open, Specs, or you're never gonna know what hit you!_ Prussia thought, resisting the urge to rub his hands together with glee at the thought of Austria groveling on the ground before him. Instead he glanced down at the boy standing by his side. Fritz had a frown on his face as he craned his neck up to look at the soldiers marching past.

"We're too close. I can't see very well," he mumbled when he glanced up and met Gilbert's eyes.

"You should have said something sooner, Kid," Gilbert said. He hefted the boy up under the arms, then lifted him up to sit on his shoulders. He winced as scrabbling hands sought a grip on his hair, but once his seat was more secure Fritz relaxed his grip, resting his forearms lightly on top of Gilbert's head instead.

"Better?" Gilbert asked.

"You could have warned me," Fritz said with a sigh.

"Where's the fun in that?" Gilbert asked, ignoring the irritated glance Friedrich William gave him. "Now you have an uninterrupted view. Isn't it awesome?" A giggle was his only reply.

The three stood in silence for the rest of the parade, and as the soldiers were dismissed back to their barracks, Gilbert slipped Fritz off his shoulders and back onto the ground. The King contemplated his son for a moment, face inscrutable as he reached over to straighten the boy's cravat. When Fritz began to fidget under the penetrating stare he finally spoke.

"You may have the rest of the day to yourself. Be sure to be on time for lessons in the morning."

"Of course, Father," Fritz replied, then continued in a rush. "I learned a new song to play on my drum. I was going to play for Mother and Wilhelmina later, would you like to hear too?"

"I do not have time for such trivialities, presently," Friedrich William said. "Your mother and sister will make for a satisfactory audience."

"I'm not busy," Gilbert said as the boy's face fell. "If you want to put on a performance after dinner I can be there."

"We're drilling the infantry at first light, Prussia. I expect you to be present," Friedrich William addressed his Nation.

"Of course," Gilbert replied.

The King nodded. "Accompany my son back to the palace then, Prussia. I shall see you at supper."

As soon as they were out of ear shot, Gilbert let out a violent breath. When Fritz looked up at him curiously he muttered, "Being around your father puts me on edge."

"He never has time to listen to me play," Fritz said quietly.

Gilbert sighed, raising a hand to squeeze the boy's shoulder reassuringly. He didn't want to tell him that usually it was more of a lack of interest in his son's musical pursuits than lack of time to listen that prevented the King's attendance.

"Try not to worry about it too much," Gilbert said instead. "Besides, when you have the awesome me there, why would you need anybody else?"

"Father doesn't like music, does he?" Fritz asked.

"If something doesn't involve weapons," Gilbert admitted, "your father probably isn't interested in it. The only two pastimes I know him to have outside of the army are hunting and painting."

Fritz whipped his head up in surprise. "Father _paints_?" he asked.

Gilbert winced. "Don't tell him I told you. But yes, he does."2

"But I thought he didn't like art. He sold off all of Grandfather's collection, didn't he?"

"As a rule he hates the arts," Gilbert agreed. "He doesn't see much use in decorations and he considers buying artwork a waste of money. But painting itself is an outlet, I think. It helps him focus. Also, your father is a contradictory man."

"So he thinks music is useless, then," Fritz said with a defeated sigh.

"Kid, I just told you that your father _paints_. I doubt that he has any real qualm with you playing the drum."

"So long as it remains a hobby," Fritz said.

_Damn. I keep forgetting how perceptive he is_, Prussia thought, idly scratching the back of his head.

"Father isn't going to be happy with me unless I devote my entire life to the army like he did," Fritz predicted morosely.

Gilbert sighed, drawing to a halt and placing a restraining hand on Fritz's shoulder so the boy turned to face him.

"We need the army," Gilbert said. "My lands are rather scattered and the security we have right now is based on our good relations with surrounding nations which, believe me, won't last. If I'm to have any kind of a future I need a strong, disciplined army that's ready to go to war at a moment's notice, and your father can provide me that. That aside, even _I_ need a distraction from training regimens and parades." He quirked a grin at his Crown Prince. "So you keep on as you are. You're not your father and I don't ever expect you to become him. You're awesome, so you just keep being you."

Fritz beamed up at him. "So, will you listen then? When I play?"

"Have I ever said no?" Gilbert asked, ruffling the boy's hair again.

* * *

The Queen's rooms were markedly different from the rest of the palace. It was the one suite that remained lavishly decorated, and changed continuously in appearance. Queen Sophia had made it very clear to her husband that while he could impose a strict military style on the entire nation if he so desired that if he attempted to do the same to the quarters where she spent most of her time, he was no longer to be welcome within them. Sophia was born and bred for a life at court, with glamour and gossip and fashion; but her husband kept no court, and so Sophia was forced to create her own within the confines of her own apartment. Her most immediate and constant court was her children; Wilhelmina, who could usually be found at her mother's skirt, Fritz, and their two baby sisters.3

When Gilbert and Fritz entered the room Sophia's chamber maid, Marie, was gently rocking the youngest, soothing her back to sleep.

"Fritz!" piped up Wilhelmina from where she was seated on the carpet next to her mother's chair. Her face lit up as she held up her brother's drum. He darted forward to retrieve it. "See?" Wilhelmina declared proudly. "I kept it for you. I told you I would!"

Gilbert in the meantime walked forward and placed a dutiful kiss on the back of his Queen's hand. "My Lady Olympia," he greeted, smirking.

Sophia chuckled, her free arm resting on the gentle swell of her stomach. "So it was you who started that nickname, was it? I wondered."4 She gestured to a chair that caddy-cornered hers and Gilbert obligingly took a seat.

"No offence meant, my lady. But the world should know that only a woman like you can produce royalty as exceptional as this." Gilbert gestured to her two eldest, chatting on the floor at her side.

Sophia smiled, true maternal pride in her face as she watched them. "Yes, they are rather something else, aren't they? How was the parade?"

"Seen one parade, you've seen them all," Gilbert said with a shrug. "But the army is coming along nicely. Give it a few more years and they'll be ready to take on the whole world!"

"Now that's a tall order if I ever heard one," Sophia said.

"Well, ready to take on Europe at any rate," Gilbert amended with a shrug. "They can work on the world from there."

"I'm sure." Sophia turned to her children then. "Friedrich, your sister tells me you have been practicing a new song. Shall you play it for us now?"

"I'm always happy to play for you, Mother," Fritz said. He moved to the center of the semi-circle, face serious as he positioned the drumsticks comfortably in his hands. He tapped soundlessly above the drum-skin for a moment to find his rhythm, and then began to play in earnest. Wilhelmina smiled happily, tip-toeing around her brother to clamber onto Gilbert's lap.

"Aren't you getting a little old for this?" he asked her, nevertheless settling her a little more comfortably.

"No," she answered. "And besides, I can see my brother better from here."

They listened in silence after that, steady drumbeats the only sound to fill the room. Gilbert kept his eyes trained on his young Crown Prince who, with his serious expression looked more like a tiny adult than a child.

_You're going to be just fine, Kid_, he thought, raising a hand to cover his grin. _You're gonna do just great_.

* * *

1. The Goosestep was first used by the Prussian military and at one time was incredibly popular, especially across Europe. After WWII however, due to its becoming associated as a Nazi march, it mostly died out. A lot of South American militaries use it today in parade marches though.

The original Goosestep was extremely demanding, it involved lifting your leg perfectly straight with an unbent knee all the way to hip height, pretty much forming a ninety degree angle with your legs. Go try marching at a normal pace like that. I guarantee you will fall down. The modified goosestep only required the foot to be lifted to knee height.

2. Frederick William was actually very sick all of his life. What he had is today called 'Porphyria,' which to those of us who don't spend our time researching odd diseases basically means that he was in a lot of pain a lot of the time; gout, migraines, boils, nausea are just a few of the rather nasty list of symptoms. One of the ways he dealt with it was by painting and, all things considered, he wasn't that terrible at it.

3. Frederick the Great ended up with about ten younger siblings; only three of those were brothers. The eldest of said younger brothers was about ten years his junior. I'm not sure about the age differences of all of them, all the books have really said on the subject was that his mother was pregnant almost every year, so I've taken liberties with deciding when.

4. Sophia Dorothea was sometimes called Lady Olympia, partly due to the fact that she was almost always pregnant. It amuses me to think of Gilbert being the one to circulate that nickname.

**AN:** Well people seem to think I'm doing a good job conveying my research through the story. That makes me really happy to know that all this hard work is paying off. ^_^ Well I don't have much else to add so have a preview of chapter 4!

_A sudden chill prompted Gilbert to look up, and he met the gaze of Ivan Braginsky, standing no more than a foot away from him. Gilbert stood rigid with his shoulders back, fighting the chill that threatened to ripple down his spine. _

"_Prussia," Ivan's voice was almost a purr. _

"_Russia," Gilbert ground out, eyes narrowing. Ivan's smile stretched wider._

"_How wonderful it is to see you again. It seems that I shall be imposing on your hospitality for a time, da?" _

**Reviewer Responses:**

Thanks to **WestAero13**, **Darth-Xieda**, **Caramelle Anka**, **Kitaklaw**, **ChaoticXXHearts**, **ChibiStarr**, **Obi-Wan Jinn**, and to my anonymous person who I'm pretty sure is the same as from Chapter 1. Anonymous person, might I have a name to call you by instead of Anonymous Person?

Anonymous Person: Nope, no angry Russians with fence posts. Not yet anyway, we'll see what happens after chapter 4...

**Darth-Xieda**: No, they're not very imaginative with titles. I wonder why not? My dad is reading a lot about Wyatt Earp and all those books have interesting titles! Haha. And one thing I am trying very hard to do is keep Prussia in character, whatever situation I throw at him. I imagine him being a little more reserved with such a strict ruler but don't worry, the mouthy Prussia we all know and love will show up sooner or later. And please don't worry, long reviews make me smile. ^_^

And do let me know if you write a fic of your own, I would love to read it!

**ChibiStarr**: Funny story about the books, actually. Myself and my college roommate last year decided we wanted to know all there was to know about Frederick the Great, so we raided our school's library, quite literally taking every book there was that so much as mentioned him. We skimmed most of those and held on to the ones we liked the best. As the end of the semester approached and we realized that we hadn't had as much time as we thought (barely any, actually) to read all those, we picked our favorites and ordered them from the internet. I use Half . Com because it gives a listing of several different websites for new and used books and it rates both book quality and seller reliability. It's an offshoot of eBay. I used to use it for all my college books, got most of them a hell of a lot cheaper than my college bookstore wanted to sell them for.

-_- And to hell with it, his eyes are staying blue! I never met the man (someone build a time machine so I _can, damnit!) which at this point I think is the only way for me to settle this for sure; so my final verdict is I started the story with him having blue eyes, and that is how it's staying. Yay, no more headache. _


	4. The Child IV

5/24/11

For Love of his Nation

Part I: The Child

Chapter 4

"_If it takes my whole life, I won't break I won't bend._

_It will all be worth it, worth it in the end._

_Cause I can only tell you what I know,_

_That I need you in my life._

_And when the stars have all burned out you'll still be,_

_Burning so bright."_

-Sarah McLaughlin, "Answer"

_Summer, 1718_ 1.

Towards the end of August the royal family of Prussia was paid a visit by Peter the Great of Russia. Friedrich William was not in attendance, having planned a trip beforehand to his duchy in East Prussia, but upon hearing of Peter the Great's intended visit had ordered Gilbert to stay behind and assist the queen in entertaining their royal company.2 The entire week between the departure of his own king and the arrival of Russia's saw Gilbert in a constant foul mood, liable to snap at anything that so much as twitched in his presence. The only one who would voluntarily approach him was Friedrich.

"Tsar Peter is my Godfather, isn't he?" Friedrich asked one afternoon, taking a break from practicing his newest song to talk to his Nation, who was staring moodily out a window.

"One of 'em, yeah," Gilbert answered.

"You don't like him," Friedrich said.

"I've got nothing against the Tsar, Fritz, he's a strong ruler. He's good for his people."

"But you don't want him to come here," Friedrich said, a question clear in his words.

"It's _Russia_ I don't want to come here," Gilbert said. "I don't want Russia coming anywhere near my lands." There was a growl in his words, and as he spoke one of his hands curled up into a fist. "I don't want Russia coming anywhere near my _people_."

"I thought Russia was our ally," Friedrich said.

"Russia's _ruler_ is our ally," Gilbert said. "Russia himself is no one's ally. Ivan is insane, a child's mind melded with a despot's twisted imagination. And he doesn't care who he hurts, or why."

Friedrich was silent a moment before he asked, "Are you afraid of him?"

"I'm not afraid of anything!" Gilbert snapped. "My army is strong enough to stand up to his! Why should I be afraid?"

Friedrich stood and slowly approached his Nation, reaching out to gently uncurl the fingers that Gilbert had clenched so tight they were now drawing blood from his palm. As Friedrich wrapped his fingers around them Gilbert finally turned to look at him.

"I wasn't asking if Prussia was afraid of Russia," Friedrich said, meeting his Nation's eyes. Gilbert was suddenly struck by how adult the child seemed. "I was asking if _Gilbert_ was afraid of _Ivan_."

He held Gilbert's eyes as the albino's lips tightened and he didn't answer.

"You don't need to be worried," Friedrich said after several moments of tense silence. "I'm your Crown Prince. I will let nothing happen to you."

"It's not me I'm worried about, Kid," Gilbert said, curling his fingers up around the small ones that gripped his.

"A Nation not at war with you would not dare harm your royal family."

"Russia is unstable," Gilbert said. "I can't honestly say what he would or would not do."

"Does Father know how you feel?"

Gilbert snorted. It was answer enough.

Friedrich raised his head high. "Nothing will harm you while I live to prevent it, Prussia. As your Crown Prince I so swear."

Gilbert smiled. "Kid, are you _sure_ you're only six? Because you do a damn good job acting like you're _twenty_-six." He squeezed the boy's fingers gently. "Stop growing up so fast," he added.

"Well I can hardly help it, Prussia," Friedrich said with a quick grin. "I'm only human."

Gilbert's smile tightened slightly. "Yeah," he said quietly, turning to look back out the window. "I know."

* * *

When Peter the Great and his entourage arrived a few days later it was to much fanfare and excitement. Queen Sophia had worked the palace staff into a tizzy. It was rare that she was able to entertain guests as she wanted and she was taking full advantage of the occasion. She had even managed to convince her spendthrift husband into leaving her in charge of what to buy in terms of decorations and food in order to impress their royal company.

Although quite obviously the most eager to welcome the Tsar on his arrival, it was deemed safer for the pregnant queen to wait in her rooms to receive him after the overly stressful week she had spent overseeing the preparations for his arrival. She had protested the orders of her doctors until Gilbert asked her himself, quiet and earnest. She sulked, but agreed as long as he accompanied the welcoming party.

"Like I could really do anything else, anyway," Gilbert muttered, standing at the bottom of the outside stairs and flanked on either side by the two eldest royal children. He fought the urge to shove his hands in his pockets, instead crossing his arms across his chest.

"I hardly understand why you're so testy, Prussia," Wilhelmina said, standing up on tiptoes to catch a better glimpse of the carriages coming ever closer. "We never receive company like this. It's exciting!"

Friedrich said nothing, but he reached up and gave Gilbert's elbow a brief squeeze. Gilbert's eyes flicked down to the boy, who's own eyes never left the road. Gilbert felt a crooked grin form on his face as he returned his own gaze to the approaching caravan.

Very soon the grandest of the carriages had pulled to a halt in front of them and servants in fancy livery were pulling open the doors. Peter the Great was one of the tallest men Prussia could ever remember seeing. At 6'8" he towered above even Russia who was the tallest of the Nations.3 He did not, however, have his Nation's impressive build, slender rather than stocky, he looked almost as if a strong breeze could blow him over. But he had an open expression of delight upon his face as he gazed at the trio that stood to welcome him, and the friendly clap he delivered to Gilbert's shoulder forced the Prussian Nation to take a step back to keep from falling over.

"Prussia!" Tsar Peter exclaimed, oblivious to the way Gilbert was carefully edging away from him. "How wonderful to finally meet you in person! Such a pity that your king must be away on business, but such is life!"

Gilbert gave a grunt in lieu of a reply but the Tsar hardly noticed. His attention had been captured by Wilhelmina and he had dropped to one knee in front of the girl, taking her hand and delivering a kiss to the back of it. "Ah, but your father has failed to mention that he has such a beautiful flower budding under his roof!" the Tsar exclaimed, still holding Wilhelmina's hand in his. She was blushing, her other hand positioned in front of her mouth to hide her smile at the flattery. "Why, in just a few years I imagine that minstrels across Europe will be vying for a chance to write songs about your beauty!"

Prussia wrinkled his nose in distaste at the excessive flattery (though he did privately agree that his princess was far more beautiful than any of her European competitors. Even if he hadn't met many of the others yet she was _his_ princess and that gave her superiority.) A sudden chill prompted Gilbert to look up, and he met the gaze of Ivan Braginsky, standing no more than a foot away from him. Gilbert stood rigid with his shoulders back, fighting the chill that threatened to ripple down his spine.

"Prussia," Ivan's voice was almost a purr.

"Russia," Gilbert ground out, eyes narrowing. Ivan's smile stretched wider.

"How wonderful it is to see you again. It seems that I shall be imposing on your hospitality for a time, da?"

Gilbert stiffened at the implication behind the childishly innocent tone, but before he could reply there was a sudden movement on his right. Friedrich stepped forward, bowing very correctly to Ivan before straightening and shifting his position a bit. A tiny smile curled on Ivan's lips and his eyes darkened just slightly as he noticed where the boy had purposefully positioned himself; directly in front of Gilbert so that he stood between his Nation and Russia.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Russia. I am Friedrich, Crown Prince of Prussia." His words were correct and his tone polite, but there was protectiveness written into every aspect of his stance and expression. He met Ivan's gaze without flinching.

The northern Nation was silent for a moment as he assessed the boy, before giving a short but formal bow of his own. "It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Little King," he said, a chuckle evident behind his words. "I have a feeling that this visit is going to be… interesting." There was a careful emphasis on his last word.

Gilbert put a hand on his Crown Prince's shoulder, taking a half-step forward so he was standing directly behind the boy. He and Ivan locked gazes, each refusing to be the first to look away.

"Well!" the sudden exclamation startled the three out of their standoff. Tsar Peter was standing and stepped up beside them, grinning. "It seems we have all had time to exchange proper greetings." His eyes traveled down to Friedrich. "And at last I get to meet my Godson." He held out his hand and, startled, the boy took it. "I hope that there will be plenty of time for the two of us to talk later. Your father has written about you, once or twice. I believe we shall have some interesting conversations. But that shall come later, it has been a long journey and I should like to greet the queen before I take my rest. Russia, come. The little princess has agreed to guide us."

Wilhelmina smiled radiantly, giving a low curtsy, before turning to guide the Tsar and his Nation back inside the palace. Ivan paused as he walked away, looking back over his shoulder at Gilbert and Friedrich. He smiled, nodding his head slowly, before following after his ruler.

As the foreign servants began to bustle about them Gilbert let out the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. Friedrich fidgeted under the hand still on his shoulder and Gilbert was startled to realize that he was gripping the boy so hard he was probably going to end up with a bruise. He released him with a muttered, "Sorry."

Friedrich didn't respond, staring up after Russia as he walked through the doors and absentmindedly rubbing his shoulder. "I don't like him," he said at last, turning to look at Gilbert. "I don't like the way he looks at you. Like you belong to him. You don't."

Gilbert quirked a grin. "Because I belong to you, Kid?" he began to walk, not expecting an answer. He got one anyway.

"No, Prussia. You belong to yourself."

Startled, Gilbert turned back around to face his Crown Prince. Friedrich stood, back straight and eyes flashing challenge. "You belong to yourself," he repeated. "No one should get to keep you, or cage you. Not Russia, not my father, and not me. A king should ensure that his Nation is free." His eyes narrowed and his last words were murmured as if to himself but Gilbert still heard, "And when I'm King you always will be."

Entirely at a loss for what to say in response, Gilbert raised his hand towards Friedrich but halted halfway. Words died unspoken on his lips as he met the boy's eyes again. Slowly, a grin formed across his face. "Fritz, you are going to be something else."

Friedrich smiled briefly, then reached up and took the hand that Gilbert hadn't lowered. "Mother will be wondering what's keeping us," he said simply as he led his Nation back into the palace.

* * *

The days following the Tsar's arrival began to fall into a pattern. They would all take breakfast together in Queen Sophia's chambers and after Tsar Peter would entertain the Queen with stories of his home. He would often take walks after, insisting that Prussia and the two eldest royal children accompany him so they could show him about the palace and the grounds. Russia was always present for these walks often hovering at the back of the group and rarely saying anything. After lunch Tsar Peter would usually invite Prussia and Friedrich to accompany him on a horseback ride. The man seemed to revel in the warm summer of the southern nation, often declining to talk during the rides in favor taking in the sights and smells of everything around him. Because of the brisk pace he would set Gilbert opted to have Friedrich share his horse to ensure the boy kept his seat when the Tsar would occasionally decide to urge the horses into a run.

Supper was taken in the dining hall. The children marveled at the food that was being served. Friedrich William preferred very simple meals, like meat and cabbage; soldiers' fare as his father had once dubbed it, and his family had grown used to dining thus. Sophia had pressured her husband for a budget to feed their company in a more lavish way and her husband had caved to her prodding. Her children would marvel every night at the newest succulent concoction that the kitchen staff had prepared. The typical plates and cutlery of wood and pewter had been replaced, at least for Russia and his Tsar, with the silver that usually only the Queen was permitted to eat from.

After supper tea was taken in the Queen's apartments, and more sedate pastimes punctuated the conversation. For a little while each evening, with prompting from his mother and sister, Friedrich would entertain the company by playing on his drum or, occasionally, a tune on the flute he had recently begun to learn to play.

"I prefer the flute," he said after the first night he performed for them with it. "But right now I am better practiced with my drum. You will have to return again in a few years, Godfather, so I can entertain you properly."

Tsar Peter had laughed, clapping the boy on the shoulder. Even in the evenings he was energetic and prone to sudden bouts of enthusiasm wherein he would spring to his feet or pace the room. Where such a slender, almost willowy (not to mention middle aged) man kept all that energy hidden Gilbert couldn't even begin to guess. And though Gilbert guardedly approved of the man, he also had his quirks. He had come accompanied by a small cluster of women, several of whom carried infants or toddlers in their arms. Gilbert had overheard Wilhelmina address them in the evening of the first day they arrived.

"But my good ladies," she had said, upon seeing the children. "Should it not have been better for you to stay home with your husbands while caring for children so young? This was a far way to travel."

Most of the women had looked at her in confusion. Only a few of them spoke French4 (which is how Wilhelmina had addressed them, since none of them spoke German) but even those who did could not seem to grasp her words. Finally one of the women had curtseyed low, balancing her child on one arm.

"My good Princess, we have no husbands. The Tsar has done us the great honor of fathering our children."5

In spite of her courtly training Wilhelmina's eyebrows rose in shock. Having nothing to say in reply, she curtsied and crossed the room again to stand by her mother. After that little display Gilbert also kept a very wary eye on just how much attention the Tsar paid to the princess. Wilhelmina herself seemed slightly more off put to his attentions after that, keeping close to her mother or brother.

Throughout all of this Russia continued to hover in the background, lurking behind his Tsar's shoulder like a demented shadow and only actively participating in conversations when directly addressed. Even Queen Sophia commented once after the Russian party had retired one night, "Goodness, but I don't know how the Tsar can tolerate that man leering behind him like that all the time, his Nation or no. He's fairly disturbing."

_I couldn't agree more_, Gilbert thought silently, glancing at Ivan from the corner of his eye. Ivan was seated a few feet away, leaning serenely back in his chosen arm-chair with his hands folded across his lap. Though his attention was seemingly focused on his ruler and the conversation he was having with Friedrich, every so often his eyes would flick over to Gilbert as if assessing whether or not the Prussian had let his guard down yet.

With a massive effort Gilbert averted his attention in an effort to ignore the northern Nation. He focused instead on his Crown Prince. Friedrich quite enjoyed the evening conversations with his Godfather. The Tsar took him seriously and listened to what he had to say in spite of the boy's age. Friedrich rose to meet this quiet respect, constructing well thought out opinions and instigating debates. When given a topic he did not know how to discuss he would research it thoroughly the next day, or ask Gilbert or his tutor for an explanation, and return to the Tsar that night with his own opinions on whatever the subject had been.

"He is very intelligent, you Little King," someone said quietly from Gilbert's left side. Cursing himself for not paying better attention, Gilbert whipped his head around to see that Russia was standing, and repositioning his chair so that it caddy-cornered Gilbert's. The albino narrowed his eyes, leaving it unspoken, but quite plain, that Ivan's proximity was unwelcome. Ivan merely smiled, settling himself comfortably again in his chair.

"Friedrich's not my king yet," Gilbert eventually said, and couldn't resist adding, "But he's shaping up to be the best damn ruler Europe has ever seen." He angled his body in his chair so that he didn't have to take his eyes off of Ivan. Diplomatic visit or not, Gilbert trusted the northern Nation about as far as he could throw him.

"Perhaps you are too attached to the boy? He is intelligent, certainly, but no more so than any other young presumptive ruler. Besides, he is but a child yet. And childhood can be fraught with… accidents."

Gilbert's eyes flashed with challenge and he bristled, leaning forward slightly in his chair. Ivan's smile had the tiniest hint of satisfaction about it.

"_Nothing_ will happen to Friedrich while I'm around!" Gilbert growled.

"Ah, but you cannot always be around, da? Perhaps you teach the boy to rely on you too much?"

"You'd best think twice before threatening my royal family in _my home_, Russia!" Gilbert said, eyes narrowed and voice practically a hiss. Ivan settled back contentedly into his chair, like the cat that had just gotten the canary.

"Who said anything about threats, Prussia? I merely comment on the whims of fate."

"Our fates are what we make of them," said an unexpected voice. Both Nations glanced to the side to see Friedrich standing in front of them. Gilbert had to suppress the urge to leap up and drag the boy behind him.

Russia tilted his head to the side as he studied the boy, a small smirk hovering on his lips.

"You do not believe in fate?" he asked.

"Our decisions are our own, as are the consequences of them," Friedrich replied. "Although, it seems I was under a mistaken impression that this was a religious debate. I enjoy those, which is why I came over to join the two of you."

Russia's eyebrows rose. Clearly he didn't buy the polite lie but it was just as clear that Friedrich didn't care. It had merely been an excuse to abandon his previous discussion so that he could interpose himself between the two Nations and break the clearly rising tension.

"Sorry, Friedrich," Gilbert said with a forced chuckle. "Afraid that…. discussion, was political."

"Oh," the Crown Prince said, then shrugged and situated himself on the edge of Gilbert's chair, facing Ivan. Gilbert obligingly shifted his legs to give the boy more space, but kept his feet planted on the floor, ready to leap up at a second's notice if Ivan decided to so much as twitch a finger in Friedrich's direction.

"If the two of you don't mind I would like to sit in on your discussion. It would be interesting to hear the opinions of nations themselves on international politics." Friedrich smiled, the very picture of innocent schoolboy curiosity, but there was no mistaking the challenge that flashed in his eyes as they met Russia's. And there was no way Ivan mistook that challenge for anything but what it was. But he smiled obligingly and began a new thread of conversation that included Friedrich.

"You didn't need to do that," Gilbert said later as he was walking Friedrich back to his room. "I can handle Ivan."

"I told you, Prussia," Friedrich said, turning to look his Nation in the eye. "I'm your Crown Prince. It's my job to protect you. And," he frowned, eyes darting around to make sure there was no one around to overhear. "I _really_ don't like the way Ivan acts around you. It's like, like…" the boy groped for words. "Like he's a puppet master and he can control you by tugging your strings."

"Russia's good at that," Gilbert admitted. "He'll wait and he'll watch, rather like a spider, then find something he can manipulate in his favor." Gilbert sighed. "Unfortunately, after all this time at it, he knows exactly which strings to pull, and how hard he has to tug to get the reaction he wants. And he can find new strings very quickly."

The two paused outside the door to Friedrich's room and faced one another. Friedrich sighed.

"I will miss the conversations I have with the Tsar. But I can't regret his leaving if it gets Ivan away from you. My Godfather is an intriguing man, but I do not like his Nation."

Gilbert reached up as if to ruffle his hair, paused, then lowered his arm to give the boy a fierce, though brief, one armed hug.

"They leave in just a few days to meet up with your father before heading home to Russia."

"Just as well," Friedrich said with a sudden grin. "I think Wilhelmina is just about ready to kick them out herself."

Gilbert grimaced. His little princess had grown tired of the Tsar's overly affectionate attentions very quickly. Recently, in a bid to escape the worst of them in the evenings, she had taken to sitting on her mother's lap. When shooed away by the pregnant queen, who admittedly had little lap room to offer, Wilhelmina had plopped herself on Gilbert's legs and refused to be moved.

"I think even your mother will be relieved to be able to rest once they're gone," Gilbert said after a while. "And on that note, I think it's about time you go in to bed. I know I'd like to sleep for about a week, personally."

"Well, good night then, Gilbert," Friedrich said. He hesitated with his door half open, and just as Gilbert was about to ask what was wrong, he flung his arms around his Nation's waist, gave a quick but fierce squeeze, then darted into his room.

Gilbert stared at the closed door for a moment, stunned; he hadn't held the boy in well over a year. Then he smiled, eyes softening before closing briefly, then snapping open and glancing about to make sure that no one had caught his moment of sentimentality. His lips half-quirked as he realized he was alone. With one last glance at the door, he turned and headed back for his own rooms.

* * *

The entire Prussian royal family, with the exception of the absent king, was present to bid farewell to Tsar Peter of Russia and his entourage on the morning of their departure. Even the two baby princesses were in attendance, held carefully by their dutiful nursemaids.

Tsar Peter knelt first before Wilhelmina, tenderly taking one of her hands in his and kissing the back of it. Her smile looked more like a grimace and Gilbert could almost hear her chanting to herself inside her own head; _"Just five more minutes. Just five more minutes. I only have to deal with this for five more minutes."_ Aloud she managed a brief, though decidedly unfelt, lament that the Tsar's stay with them had been too short and that she would pray at the next service for him to be able to visit again. Gilbert almost snorted at that one; if Wilhelmina, and her brother for that matter, prayed for anything during Sunday services it was that they ended quickly.

"My dear Queen Sophia Dorothia," Tsar Peter said, clasping the queen's hands between his own and bowing briefly over them. "It has been my privilege to have been your guest, even for far too short a time as this."

"Oh, think nothing of it, my good Tsar," the Queen replied, eyelids half lowered and a coy, flattered little smile on her lips. "It was my very distinct pleasure to have you. I do hope that you manage to return again one day, I am fair devastated by your departure."

"God willing, I shall visit again some day," the Tsar promised.

Gilbert sighed, thinking he rather deserved a medal for managing to not roll his eyes during the conversation. The Tsar stopped before him next, nodded politely and clapped him on the shoulder with a smile. Gilbert had braced himself, so while he swayed, he didn't have to backpedal to keep his feet.

"It has been a pleasure, Prussia, to have been a guest in your country."

Gilbert blinked in surprise, not expecting to have been addressed and unsure of how to respond. Thankfully, he didn't need to because Tsar Peter did not wait for a response before dropping to one knee before his godson.

"Talking with you has been a rare delight, Friedrich. You are the most intelligent lad your age I have ever had the privilege to converse with. There is the makings of a great king in you." He gave the boy's shoulder a brief squeeze. Wide-eyed at the praise, Friedrich remembered to bow only as the Tsar was rising.

"Farewell, Godfather. I pray you a safe return home."

As the Tsar bid his final farewells and walked away, Ivan lingered. He bowed once to the queen, who nodded her head in lieu of the curtsey her awkward body would not allow her to give before taking Wilhelmina's hand and leading her back inside. Russia watched their departure for a moment before turning to face Gilbert.

"So it seems we part for the time being," Ivan said, almost pleasantly. He looked down at Friedrich, who had once again angled himself in front of his Nation. Gilbert had both his hands on the boy's shoulders. Ivan chuckled as he stared at them, and began to turn as if to walk away, then paused.

"Do take care of Prussia, Little King," Ivan said, looking right at Friedrich, who met his stare evenly. "It would be a shame if anything were to happen to him before our next meeting."

Friedrich didn't answer Ivan, simply met the Nation's eyes until Ivan turned away to walk to his Tsar's carriage and climb inside. As the caravan began to move away both Prussia and his Crown Prince visibly relaxed.

"Shame if anything happens to me indeed," Gilbert muttered. "Before he can do it himself, he means."

"He won't," Friedrich said. Gilbert glanced down in surprise at the vehemence in the boy's tone to find that both of his hands were clenched into fists. "He won't hurt you, not _ever_. I won't _let_ him!"

With sudden, wry amusement, Gilbert dropped to one knee before his young prince and calmly uncurled the boy's fists, struck by the reversal of the scene that had taken place mere weeks ago.

"I know you won't," Gilbert said quietly, and moved with a sudden, fierce affection and uncaring of who saw he gently kissed the boy's forehead. "I know you won't. You're going to grow up strong, and together we'll kick Russia's sorry ass if he tries anything."

Friedrich clenched Gilbert's hands tightly, leaning his forehead against his Nation's and inhaling a shaky breath. "Will I?" he asked querulously. "Will I be strong? Am I going to be great, like Godfather said?"

Startled, Gilbert drew back to meet Fritz's suddenly moist eyes, reminded quite rudely that however intelligent the boy was, he was still just that; a boy. A child. A child who may be perceptive and good with words and strong in the few convictions he had formed so far, but who was terribly young and not yet ready for the role he already knew he would one day be needed to fill. Gilbert smiled, bright and full, standing and sweeping his Crown Prince up in his arms in one smooth movement.

"You aren't going to be great, Friedrich, because you are going to be so much better than that." He felt Friedrich's arms wrap and tighten about his shoulders. "I've said it before, Kid, and I'll say it again now. You are going to be _awesome_."

* * *

1. This visit of Tsar Peter's actually occurred the year before, in 1717. However as the chapter went on I realized that some…. Most…. Okay, all of the conversations involving Fritz were pretty unbelievable for a five-year-old. Granted, even according to my history books he held some incredibly intelligent conversations at five, notably during his Godfather's stay. However, for sake of story flow, I upgraded his age to six in an attempt to raise slightly less eyebrows.

2. Frederick William was, in fact, not in attendance for this visit. Why, I have no idea, but it certainly made writing this chapter much easier.

3. Actually, Russia and Sweden are exactly the same height, but that explanation didn't fit comfortably there so I clipped it altogether.

4. French was the language most commonly spoken in court, rather than German. In fact, though I think most of us already know this, Friedrich himself barely spoke German.

5. As I'll explain in a minute, most of the information I have on Tsar Peter the Great comes from his Wikipedia page. (Don't judge me!) Mistresses aren't mentioned there at all, just his two wives and the fourteen children he had by them. (Only three of which survived to adulthood, by the way. His life fairly sucked.) However this incident is taken from Willhelmina's personal memoirs and I thought it was interesting enough to include. Also, I read Peter the Great's _wikipedia page_. I doubt the topic of mistresses and illegitimate children are important enough to squeeze in.

**AN:** This author's note is going to be a bit longer than usual, so fair warning. First, I apologize profusely for the delay in updating. Life has been using me like a chew toy. I can promise it won't take two more months to get chapter five out. And chapter five is the last chapter of the first arc! Woo hoo!

Second: I did very little research into the life of Peter the Great outside of what was mentioned in the books I'm reading on Friedrich. My research, admittedly, involved reading his wikipedia page. Yes I hear you all gasping in shock, but kindly forestall throwing the blunt objects and rotten food. What I have learned about the man thus far leads me to believe that researching his life would be incredibly interesting, but I didn't feel it was necessary to the story to get more than a basic profile and a rough personality sketch. I'm probably dead wrong about the personality anyway, but where wikipedia and my books on Friedrich clashed, I went with the books. I may do more research on Peter the Great one day, he certainly seems like a fascinating individual, however it won't be for a while. When I finish this story I have one outlined for France and Joan of Arc, and I'm also reading about Wyatt Earp, so I'll probably end up scattering some one-shots about him in there somewhere.

And thirdly: My thoughts on Russia. Brace yourselves, this may take a while. To start with I'm going to say I do not believe that Russia is evil in the slightest, which may be how he came across here. I do believe he is perfectly capable of being vindictive, and I do not believe that he and Prussia have ever, in their entire history, gotten along even during the times that necessity made them allies. My beta and I had disagreements over his portrayal here so to be fair I'm going to post her argument: _"My only real problem is your portrayal of Russia. Don't get me wrong, the majority of the time I like him perfectly…especially his lurking. But… and this is just my personal opinion, I always saw Russia as not exactly sinister because I don't think he would even understand what it means to be sinister but instead very oblivious to the fact that what he does it wrong and cruel because he thinks it is right…do you get what I mean? It's hard to explain…more of a general feeling… Though I am aware that Prussia and Russia certainly dislike each other greatly so I definitely like that part too."_ I go back and forth quite a bit on just how sane I think Russia really is. I think he usually views the world through the eyes of a child because children are, at heart, innocent and he yearns for that innocence and it is the only way he knows to hold on to it. The result is his almost childlike cruelty, the way he'll hurt Lithuania and the Baltics to make them stay with him, for example. I also believe that he is perfectly capable of malicious when he wants to be, and we already know that he knows how to be manipulative. Add that to the fact that he and Prussia openly hate each other… and well, you get pretty much what I wrote. At least, that's how I feel. And with the only people in this chapter for him to interact with being Prussia or Prussia's royal family there wasn't much wiggle room from Russia's more childlike persona to make itself known, unless you count his baiting Gilbert about Friedrich because let's be honest; there was no way he could possibly hurt Prussia's Crown Prince under the over-protective Nation's nose, and especially not when his own ruler was so fond of the boy. So baiting Gilbert to get a reaction out of him was the only thing he could do, and he quite obviously enjoyed doing so. Would he really have harmed Fritz given the opportunity? I like to think not. So yeah, my overly long explanation on Russia's characterization.

No preview this time, but for the next chapter I do promise _drama_. Lots and lots of drama.

Last thing, I swear. I'm thinking about setting up a forum for this story for everyone to discuss thoughts, characters, history and the like. Anyone interested? If I get enough interest I'll set it up when I post the next chapter.

**Reviewer Responses:**

Thanks to **Darth-Xieda**, **ChibiStarr**, **WestAero13**, **ChaoticXXHearts**, **KitakLaw**, **Snow. inZodiac**, **Lydiacatfish**, **Obi-Wan Jinn**, **Trumpet-Geek**, and everyone who has been reading, favoriting, alerting, or generally lurking about this story. You all rock!

**Darth-Xieda**: ^_^ You're awesome. And I can't wait to get to the chapters with Austria. They are going to be _epic_.

**ChibiStarr**: Never underestimate the high school library. On occasion, they surprise you. But just in case go to your local public library and request the two books I'm reading. (why yes, I _will _be shamelessly plugging them for the entire story.)

**ChaoticXXHearts**: I went into this project expecting to hate Friedrich William, to tell the truth. From what I knew of him before reading these books I thought it would be easy to write him as a villain, but as it turns out I was very, very wrong. I still don't like him in the slightest, but my detest for him as a person has been tempered by a grudging respect for the admittedly very good ruler he was, and trace amounts of sympathy for the suffering he was almost constantly in. This complicated view will start becoming apparent a little later on, I think.

**KitakLaw**: do you know where I'd be able to listen to some of the music that Friedrich II composed? I would really like to, especially since I'm starting to write about him playing the flute, actually hearing his music would probably help those scenes.

**Snow. inZodiac**: I have a fan! *wiggles in glee* I'm so glad you're enjoying this. The reason I actively started writing it (other than my beta breathing down my neck and threatening to strangle me in my sleep if I didn't) was because some of the fics I most enjoyed in the Hetalia section were the ones that dealt specifically with actual historical events or people. You're right that a lot of writers do, unfortunately, ignore the people and events that actually shaped the nations. (also I apologize for the space in your name; apparently ff . net thinks it's a web address and erased it the first time around.)

**Lydiacatfish: **shhhhhh! Spoilers! Ha ha. But yes, there will be rough patches coming up, some significantly worse than others. They begin, in fact, next chapter….


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